


Cat Scratches

by Kealpos



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Ask to tag anything else if need be, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, The child abuse is because Michael's parents aren't the best at all., They're pretty bad tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 12:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11623320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kealpos/pseuds/Kealpos
Summary: It was, what, May? Of Junior year when it happened. About a month and a half after the whole Squip thing.He doesn’t know how his parents found out. Maybe the hoodie shifted, maybe someone told them, maybe they saw his arms when trying to wake him up because he missed his alarm. It didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that it happened.What “That” was, was his parents finding out about the arms covered in self-harm scars, that even Jeremy didn’t know about, because he had a cat, and made sure to make it look messy, so he could use Clyde as an excuse. Not to mention, most of it happened during the Squip period, not due to Jeremy directly, but more because everything was a lot less easy to deal with internalized homophobia and sensory overload when your best friend and mild support system got yanked out from under you. The point was, Jeremy didn’t know about them.But his parents, hoo boy. They somehow saw, alright, and made the worst possible fucking decision for Michael.





	Cat Scratches

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh, some major TW for this, ofc. It should all be in the tags so if you aren't sure, re-read the tags!!
> 
> Ask me in the comments if there's anything else you figure should be an additional tag.

How did it come to this?

Michael had come out to his parents in 9th grade, and since being around Jeremy, who knew since 7th, he had fun, being blatant about how gay he was. For fucks sake, he got a pride patch on his hoodie.

So, Michael’s parent’s definitely knew he was gay, that he was attracted to boys, that he likely wasn’t attracted to girls at all but if he ever was it was an obviously lowkey part of him.

Yet, they ignored it. 

When talking about crushes, they used feminine pronouns and words. When talking about future relationships, they said things like “girlfriend” and “wife” and the like. They only talked about straight safe sex, if they ever talked about it. Anytime he mentioned any girl, they were wiggling eyebrows, but anytime he mention any  _ boy _ , especially Jeremy,  _ especially  _ after he told his parents about his crush on Jeremy, there were hard, or even worried, glances.

So maybe those were some warning signs of bad parenting towards him.

Not to mention when they forced Michael to participate in large social functions, even after he showed he was uncomfortable, even after he got diagnosed with social anxiety.

Not to mention when they would leave Michael unattended for days to do things, whether work, camping, visiting friends, whatever.

Not to mention when they left him alone to deal with whatever panic attacks he had when he did. Nobody was ever fucking there at the end of those, unless Jeremy stumbled in on one, or was there when one happened.

Nope, yep, he really should have seen all this coming, not really caring about his mental well-being, well saying they did care.

It was, what, May? Of Junior year when it happened. About a month and a half after the whole Squip thing.

He doesn’t know how his parents found out. Maybe the hoodie shifted, maybe someone told them, maybe they saw his arms when trying to wake him up because he missed his alarm. It didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that it happened.

What “That” was, was his parents finding out about the arms covered in self-harm scars, that even Jeremy didn’t know about, because he had a cat, and made sure to make it look messy, so he could use Clyde as an excuse. Not to mention, most of it happened during the Squip period, not due to Jeremy directly, but more because everything was a lot less easy to deal with internalized homophobia and sensory overload when your best friend and mild support system got yanked out from under you. The point was, Jeremy didn’t know about them.

But his parents, hoo boy. They somehow saw, alright, and made the worst possible fucking decision for Michael.

One day, that May, Michael came home from school, to find both his room and his basement hideaway had been ransacked and cleared of anything remotely sharp and dangerous, and even worse, all his long sleeve shirts and hoodies were missing.

Anything that could remotely cover his arms were gone, besides the hoodie he had been wearing all day.

He had noticed his parents in the kitchen and he had said hi when he passed, but now, he went back to the room they were in, panicked and angry, where they perched on chairs next to the island, holding mugs of coffee.

“Mom, Dad, where the hell is my shit?” Michael growled out, the moment his feet landed on the kitchen floor. He took deep, shaky breaths, trying to not freak out so much he couldn’t think coherently.

“Take off the hoodie,” Michael’s dad said, in lieu of an answer, his eyes firm and stony, no trace of sadness etched in his face.

“Answer me!” Michael shouted, his hands balled into fists, his nails unconsciously digging into his palms.

“We locked all of your “shit” up in a box in our room. Now, take off the damn hoodie, Michael,” His dad replied, while his mother looked down at her hands, resting on the coffee cup, refusing to look at Michael out of, shame? Whether of him, or of her husband’s actions, Michael didn’t know.

Michael exhaled loudly, shaking from fear and anger, before grabbing the hood, and pulling his comfort item off, exposing his black tank top, and every damn scar.

“Good. Now, give the hoodie to me, son,” Michael’s dad said, his voice cold, and a sneer painted on his face, holding out a hand, while his mother made a sad noise.

Michael thrusted it over, which was quickly yanked from him as him dad went upstairs to lock it in the box, along with everything else.

His arms felt itchy, and he felt naked, desperately trying to hide everything as his dad came back, whispering in his head,  _ idiot, idiot idiot. Never should have done that cutting, huh, you worthless little punk? Doesn’t matter you haven’t done it for three weeks. You did it, and you should feel ashamed for such a bad move. They look disgusting, and so do you, by association and otherwise. _

“So,” Michael’s dad started, sitting back down, surveying Michael’s panic and self-hatred. “We were worried about you. We got rid of the sharp things in the house, and put them in a different place that locks. You’ll need permission to get anything out from it, and even then, you have to stay in either the kitchen or the living room the entire time you handle it. Any piece of clothing that manages to hide the scars has been taken so we’ll be able to see if you cut again. Me and your mother are so disappointed in you.”

Finally, Michael’s mother succumbed to her crying, grabbing his father’s shoulder for support. Seemed almost on cue, but Michael already felt worthless and guilty enough, he didn’t notice how fake it was as he felt bile rise in his throat, but he swallowed, leaving a hot, disgusting aftertaste behind.

“Everyone- everyone will see, d-dad. Everyone will see th- this! And- and I don’t know what’ll happen, b-but if anything, judging by my p-patterns, I’m prob- probably going to get a fucking panic attack, and everyone is going to be staring and-”

“Well, you probably should've thought of that before you did this… shit,” Michael’s dad said, cutting him off as his mother cried.

He didn’t even seem to fucking care.

Michael turned, racing up to his room, when his father called, “By the way, we changed your and the bathroom’s doorknobs and removed the locks, for your own safety.”

Michael could feel tears begin to slip out as he slammed his lock-free door and slid onto the ground, hugging his knees with no cloth to grip on to.

**_Fuck._ **

* * *

 

Michael, thankfully, got to stay home the day after the big blow-up, and he stayed in the living room for a bit, the unlocked door of his room a big reminder of his punishment, Beside, here, his Mom could watch him. He tried to process everything that had happened and tried to calm down, but mainly, he just felt on hyper-alert from the moment he woke up in the morning and forgot he didn’t have anything to cover his arms with, causing him to majorly freak out for a full minute.

Of course, the texts from the group were going wild asking him where he was, especially since he wasn’t responding lightning fast like he usually did. He hadn’t been friendly with any of them besides Jeremy before, so it was weird, but he kinda liked having other friends, surprisingly enough.

9:12

[Bi-tchy] yo michael! why you not in school today?

9:24

[Cho] michel, where are you?

9:47

[IGNORED CALL FROM heereisjere]

10:06

[Dickinger] dude, jeremy called u w/ no answer n now hes moping

10:11

[CATSnigula] Michael!!!! Jeremy’s rlly worried about you!!!! No, scratch that, we’re all worried about you!!!!! You’re not talking to any of us!!!! Answer soon please!!! :((((

10:38

[IGNORED CALL FROM heereisjere

11:07

[B-lohst] r u ok? jrmy called u twice w/out u pkin up

11:51

[GooseGal] You better show up with sushi and a starbucks, or else Jeremy seems likes hes going to flip out.

12:14

[IGNORED CALL FROM heereisjere]

12:17

[heereisjere] im sorry if were overloading you but you always send a text saying why you cant come and pick up my calls and shit

12:24

[heereisjere] cmon man, we know youre seeing these. you have read messages thing on

12:38

[heereisjere] dude, youre freaking me out. fucking respond

12:42

[heereisjere] fucking respond

12:57

[heereisjere] FUCKING RESPOND

1:11

[IGNORED CALL FROM heereisjere]

Michael sighed, looking through the texts, and eventually silencing his phone before Jeremy could call again. His mom had been giving him weird looks the entire time.

“Why was your phone going off so much, Miho?" she eventually asked, as he set the device down and turned the TV volume up.

“Friends of mine getting worried, ‘s all,” he mumbled in reply.

“You’ve got more friends than Jeremy, then? When did that happen?”

Michael sighed, shaking his head before saying, “March. Jeremy invited me out to Denny’s for the cast party and we all clicked.”

“Ah, yes, when they did ecstasy, correct?” She asked, receiving a nod.

“Well, you can just see them tomorrow. Try to tell them you aren’t dead, okay, Michael?”

“Yeah, okay mom,” Michael said, standing up and grabbing his phone, walking to his bedroom as his mother clicked her tongue, watching him go.

1:36

[MikeyM] I’m not fucking dead, cool your jets, everyone.

He sent that to the group chat as he stood outside his bedroom, before going inside and closing the door, promptly collapsing on his bed.

After a few minutes of his eyes closed and limbs dangling awkwardly, he pulled himself up and opened his phone, to several missed calls from Jeremy, and floods of relieved texts from the group chat.

1:47

[B-lohst] oh thnk god. Wht hppnd 2 u 2day?

1:47

[MikeyM] Mom + Dad found something out, and I got in big trouble. They said I could stay home for the day. I’ve basically been moping in the living room for a while.

1:48

[Dickinger] what you get in trouble for? pot?

1:48

[MikeyM] Nah. I’m sure they found that though. They went through my room as part of the punishment.

1:48

[Bi-tchy] What? Aw man, thats bullshit.

1:49

[CATSnigula] What’d you get in trouble for then??????

1:52

[Cho] aw, cmon mihel, not this shit again

1:52

[MikeyM] I don’t want to talk about it. And, you know my name Chloe, come off it.

1:52

[Cho] youre no fun, dude

1:52

[MikeyM] Whatever. Where’s Jeremy? He hasn’t said shit

1:53

[GooseGal] I think hes crying out of relief lol

1:53

[MikeyM] Ah. You think he’s good, Jenna?

1:53

[heereisjere] gmyjudgi micujael holpy shit

1:53

[GooseGal] Yeah, for sure

1:54

[heereisjere] you scared me so much! what the fuck man!

1:54

[MikeyM] Sorry, dude.

1:55

[heereisjere] its fine. you got in trouble, you just scared me, is all. you are coming tomorrow though, right?

Michael took a deep breath. He really didn’t want to go tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after, or any day until either the scars disappeared or he got his long sleeved shit back.

1:57

[MikeyM] Yeah man, of course. I’ll see ya’ll tomorrow.

* * *

 

Michael would’ve locked himself in the bathroom if he had the chance, but nooo there was no lock on that too, and he was panicking close to tears. He felt sick and like if he ate a single bite of food, everything would upchuck. Maybe that was a good idea. Maybe if he puked he would get to stay home again. 

But then, his mom is calling him down because she made scrambled eggs and she doesn’t want him to go hungry, so he takes a shuddering breath and steps out of the bathroom and down the stairs into the kitchen, his arms a public display because of the short sleeved shirt he's wearing. A green shirt. His least favorite color, because he didn’t want to taint any good colors by this horrible day.

Michael sits down at the counter, and looks at the plate of eggs set in front of him, like he’s empty. What if he astral projects and his body goes on autopilot so he doesn’t have to deal with anything? Or, or, maybe he can buy a Squip before school for the sole purpose of it completely controlling him for a little so he doesn’t have to experience everything himself. But that’s stupid. He doesn’t even have 400 or how many they're selling it for bucks. Besides, they’re fucking evil.

So, Michael just picks up his fork, and eats some of the egg, swallowing it along with a rising nauseated feeling.

After choking down the plate and a cup of orange juice, his mom finally smiles, looking at the clock and says, “Alright, Michael, it’s time you headed off to school. We won’t be home most likely, so we’ve locked up the medicine cabinet. Make sure to text us the second you get home, or if you go over to a friends. Please tell us if you bring a friend over here. Have a good day!”

Yeah right.

Michael just took a deep breath and grabbed his bag, still with the “riends” written on the back, and faked a smile, before walking out to his car.

Since there happens to be the slightest bit of mercy in the world, Michael got to keep his headphones and phone, so at least, he could block out the noises that came along with the staring.

Michael could feel his insides shake the entire car drive to school, his weirdass music playlist blaring in his ears, and when he parked, he knew he was preparing himself for one of the worst experiences in his high school career, even with the Squip thing, and being given a broken arm in Sophomore year by some upperclassmen because he was gay.

And so, he got out of the car, and the moment his feet hit the pavement, he could feel hundreds of eyes shift towards him, and then to his arm, which felt itchy, and almost painful, as if he was giving himself the cuts all over again.

Michael stared at the ground, the music blocking out everything but the feeling of invisible pressure on his arms, and he walked to the school building, feeling even more lingering eyes once he entered, his hands fidgeting due to nerves, and it was almost bliss to open his locker, giving them something to do.

Then, a tap on his shoulder, and he turned his head slightly to see Jeremy in his peripheral vision, with his dopey smile on, and a straight posture, of course. They were working on that.

Michael paused and slid off the headphones, making sure to not turn the insides of his arms towards Jeremy, so he could only see the small scratches that were visible, looking like some cat scratches.

“Sup, dude,” He mumbled, keeping his eyes trained on Jeremy, as to not see other’s staring.

“I had a french quiz the other day, and I’m pretty sure I failed, and yooouuu weren’t there to give me support. You dick. Just kidding, but you did have me worried. Also, where’s your hoodie? It’s like, your comfort item, so it’s kinda surprising to see you without it.”

“Parents took it because of the heat and shit. They got all focused on me because of my whole getting in trouble thing.”

“Aw man, that’s shit. On the upside, you won’t get heat stroke!”

“Mm. Yeah. Ha.” Michael replied quietly.

Jeremy scrunched his nose with worry, a weird expression on his face.

“Yo man, you alright? I know it’s your big comfort item, but you don’t usually seem this closed off when you don’t wear it.”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine, just gotta get to next class and everything,” Michael said, before turning and attempting to dash off, but of course, Jeremy had to grab his fucking wrist, and he had to wince as his friend felt the bumps and then looked at the scars with a kind of worry and shock that he knew was coming.

“Michael, what the fuck is this?” Jeremy finally got out, whispering in horror as he looked up at Michael’s ashamed and uncomfortable face.

“J-just a lot of cat scratches. It’s not-”

“Wait, cat scratches? Are you saying that the whole cat scratching you excuse you’ve been using for years has been a lie? To cover up… this?”

“P-please let me go, Jere,” Michael whimpered out, tugging at his wrist, as the scene attracted more watchers.

“You aren’t answering my question. How long has this been going on? When did you last do this? Why today of all days is when you not wear a long sleeved something?  _ Why did you do this? _ ” Jeremy said, his voice growing steadily louder.

“I really don’t want to talk about this here or now,” Michael whispered, shutting his eyes in some attempt to keep from crying from stress.

“You said your parents took away your hoodie. Were you lying?” Jeremy asked loudly, breathing heavily.

“No, they really took away my hoodie, along with anything sharp, my long sleeved shirts, and the locks on my room and the bathroom. Now please let me go. You- you’re hurting my wrist,” Michael replied, his voice small, and finally Jeremy let go of Michael, who promptly ran off to the boys bathroom, with Jeremy calling after him as he ran but,  _ nope he couldn’t deal with this. This was just as bad as he imagined and god he was disgusting and now everyone fucking knew because Jeremy was probably going to tell the Squip gang and then everyone in the whole school would probably find out and he would become even more of a social pariah, so much that he’d lose all of his new friends and everyone in the school would refuse to touch him when he walked and he’d never get a friendly hello and forget about a boyfriend because everyone would sneer at him when he walked by and he’d have to move or be sent to a mental facility because he’d try to kill himself and  _ **_fuck!_ **

He couldn’t breath, and he couldn’t think anything besides ‘ _ disgustingdisgustingdisgusting _ ’ echoing through his head, locking the stall and clutching himself on the floor.

Everything from breakfast steadily rose, so he quickly turned towards the toilet bowl, and then everything came up, and he felt more hollow than anything and  _ disgustingdisgustingdisgusting. _

He was crying, sobbing even, and he was so loud and everything else was so quiet, but then everything behind that quiet was so loud and everyone had seen him and had stared at him and  _ disgustingdisgustingdisgusting. _

Michael could hear the bell ring through everything else but he didn’t go, he didn’t even stand up because his legs would turn to jelly the moment he did that and  _ disgustingdisgustingdisgusting. _

He couldn’t breath and he wanted to die but he didn’t have anything to kill himself with besides drowning himself in the toilet bowl, but that was shitty, and it was filled with puke. So he tore at the cuts with his own nails because it was the only fucking way he could do this and he was  _ disgusting. Just fucking disgusting. _

He swear he could hear voices talking, saying things he couldn’t make out, but they were drowned out by the pounding of his head and the pain and  _ disgusting and worthless. _

“We can’t go in there, that’s the boy’s bathroom!  _ Not to mention it’s just fucking Michael, of all people.” _

“We have to! We have to  _ actually tell him how goddamn horrible he is.” _

“I think he’s freaking out in there you guys!  _ What a pathetic excuse of a boy. He can’t even handle himself well enough to refrain from cutting himself, and when he does, he gets worked up about people seeing them. He really should’ve expected this.” _

“So it’s decided. Michael, we’re coming in! _ Better hurry up and die before we get in. You don’t even deserve to see them all again. None of them are coming to your funeral. You’re going to  _ **_die alone._ ** _ ” _

Michael scratched harder, but his nails weren’t even that long, so he barely did anything, and then a hand shot in from under the door, and then a whole body, which he couldn’t even see through tears, and the door was unlocked and  _ godohgodohgodohgodohgod he didn’t die fast enough idiotidiotidiotidiot _ .

And suddenly there were people in there, and they were grabbing him and pulling him out, which just made him panic more, but they dragged him through the halls, as he was crying  _ “Just let me die, just let me die, I should die, I need to be dead, I just want to die let me go!” _

But then he was in a different room, sitting on on cot, crying as he clutched his knees, and someone tried to talk him down through breathing exercises and god everything was bad what the fuck. Suddenly, the owner of the voice reached for his hand and he tried to pull away because  _ they’re going for the scars they’re going to touch them and you don’t want anybody to touch them, _ but the hands just held on tighter and didn’t move anywhere near the cuts, she he trusted the voice a little more, and started doing the breathing the way they were saying.

The was a hand on his shoulder, attempting to ease him down, and then the hand turned into a tapping, and an offer for putting on headphones, so Michael just nodded, and then noise was blocked out by music which was good. Good. He was still breathing in the pattern.

Good.

“...Michael, buddy, we’re here,” the voice said, and Michael could begin to pinpoint the voice to a name and a face, with a Jeremy Heere, and the boy holding his hand to calm him down.

_ Goodgoodgoodgoodgood they aren’t gone yet they won’t leave me I don’t think I’m not alone. _

Michael sat there, inhaling, exhaling, for another minute or two, before coughing out a small, “Sorry,” and Jeremy threw his arms around him in a hug.

“‘S no big deal. No need to apologize. I mean, I  _ am _ the one who confronted you publicly, which is like, majorly shitty,” Jeremy said, as Michael shoved his face into his friend’s shoulder and cardigan.

Michael mumbled into the cloth with a “Yeah, it kinda was,” and pulled up his head to face the other people in the room.

Ah. The sick room. There was the school nurse, and all of the Squip squad within it, all looking worried to varying degrees.

The nurse looked around for a few seconds before making an o expression with his mouth and said “You all probably want me out to… talk about everything. Well, I’ll be right outside the door.”

With that notice, he slipped out into the office and shut the door.

The room was silent for a few seconds to process what the nurse had said, but then blew up, with everyone but Jeremy and Michael shouting for an answer of what the fuck Michael???

Jeremy’s fingers had found Michael’s hand again, which he squeezed, which prompted Michael to do the “shushing” action, and everyone quieted down, waiting for Michael to explain.

“So, self-harm cuts, huh?” He started, forcing out a laugh, but then promptly coughing.

“Alright. So… me and Jeremy have been best friends for years, and I came out to him in seventh. The cutting started late late eighth grade. Like, it was May 28th and we were getting out in four days when I did it for the first time late. I had gotten professionally diagnosed with social anxiety, which my parents thought was a lot of nonsense, and something I could just, well,  _ get over _ .

“I didn’t do it again for a really long time, and we had, have, a cat, so I used the excuse of cat scratches for the cut. I did it again in ninth, two weeks after coming out to my parents. They used feminine pronouns to ask if I had any crushes, so I came out to them again. They didn’t acknowledge it whatsoever, so, 4, 5, 6 cuts. I never really did it much, because I had a support system of Jeremy and the school psychologist, and a therapist later. I almost did it in Sophomore year after I got beat up for being openly gay, but I figured the broken arm was enough.

“And then, this year. I just wanna say one thing. Jere, nothing of what I did myself is directly connected to you, but, you did have an underlining part in all of it.”

“Jesus christ,” Jeremy whispered. There was a good amount of cuts here, so if most of it was done in Junior year… Jeremy shook his head and let Michael continue.

“Like I said, Jeremy was a big part of why I was holding up so well, so when he completely ditched me, the routine that was keeping me balanced just sorta… crumbled. Sure, I still had therapy sessions, but you gotta understand, I had this system that I focused a lot of energy on, and I don’t know if Jeremy caused me to gain energy or lose energy.

“Suddenly, sensory overload got me a lot more. I had a higher frequency of panic attacks. I was alone at lunch unless I decided to sit with GSA buddies, which I usually didn’t considering they’re mostly closeted but still cling to each other desperately. My parent’s blatant disregard for my own sexuality really caught up to me. I lost my english tutor. And so, I became overwhelmed, and turned to self-harm when I couldn’t get weed, which was often. And then after every time, when I got a hold on my mental state, I always thought to myself ‘How gross. Cutting up your skin like the loser that you are.’ It got worse after Halloween, especially the word ‘loser’. So, I hid the cuts away. I hid myself away. I hid every gross, horrible thought deep down into my brain; just, away.

“My parents found out about the cutting, and cleared my rooms out of long sleeved shirts, anything sharp, and the locks on the rooms and bathroom, not to mention the med cabinet. They took away my hoodie and shrugged off my worry for a panic attack, which I did have, evidently. And, that’s the end.”

The room was quiet as everyone processed everything they had just been told, but finally, Brooke broke the silence by sitting down, and hugging Michael, discreetly showing him some cuts of her own, to which he smiled and nodded sadly in understanding and thanks.

“Thanks for telling us, kaibigan. I’m sorry I unintentionally put you through that,” Jeremy said letting Michael lay his head on his shoulder, accidently slaughtering the word’s pronunciation, like he always did, but it made Michael feel better to hear it anyways.

Michael hummed to signify forgiveness, as the room began to fill with his voices coordinating how they were going to let Michael borrow long-sleeved clothes in public until he got his real clothes back, and Michael felt a little better in his friendship and crush knowing that nobody thought he was some sort of freak for doing this.

**Author's Note:**

> bleh sorry I was feeling a lot of things yesterday and this was a better alternative to anything I really wanted to do. Then today I decided to finish it bc why not you know? good concept, kinda


End file.
